


We're Messy Through And Through

by jettiebettie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Fingering, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Riding, Topping from the Bottom, submissive!top!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jettiebettie/pseuds/jettiebettie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has issues when it comes to sex. He's not against getting naked and sweaty as a rule, but past experiences have a way of making so many things that should be easy and natural ultimately not. It takes Stiles forever and a day to convince him that sex was something they totally should be doing, all day every day, 24/7. Because, while make-out sessions were hot and handjobs hotter, there was only so much clothes-on touching that Stiles could stand before he felt like he was straight up about to combust from all the wasted, pent up arousal.</p><p>So when it finally happens, it's like whatever chain Derek's been keeping around himself fucking snaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Messy Through And Through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my twitter pals](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+twitter+pals).



Derek has issues when it comes to sex. He's not against getting naked and sweaty as a rule, but past experiences have a way of making so many things that should be easy and natural ultimately _not_. It takes Stiles forever and a day to convince him that sex was something they totally should be doing, all day every day, 24/7. Because, while make-out sessions were hot and handjobs hotter, there was only so much clothes-on touching that Stiles could stand before he felt like he was straight up about to combust from all the wasted, pent up arousal.

So when it finally happens, it's like whatever chain Derek's been keeping around himself fucking snaps.

He's no longer gentle when he grabs Stiles by the naked hips and tosses him on the bed, or when he goes to town licking and biting any point of exposed skin that catches his fancy. He's certainly unforgiving when he fucks Stiles open with his lubricated fingers, each one joining the others a little too soon, every jab and curl meant to systematically take Stiles apart. Later he lets his fingers dig in, leaving pleasurable bruises up and down Stiles' legs as he positions the young man right where he wants him.

And then Derek fucks him, hard and wild enough that Stiles thinks for sure one of them will break.

His brain is still a little fuzzy as his breathing finally evens out. The weight of Derek collapsed on top of him is something solid to hold onto as post-orgasm shakes continue to send little convulsions through his body. He brings one leg up to hook over Derek's as he cards a hand through the man's damp hair. Something almost like hysteria takes hold of him then, and he can't help the silent, giddy laughter that starts to bubble up in his chest. Derek stirs above him, finally unburrowing his nose from the spot behind Stiles' ear. His head pulls back and he looks down at Stiles with concern boarding on fear.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and his voice is _wrecked_ , because hey - neither of them were exactly quiet, and Stiles is pretty sure he's going to be inappropriately turned on every time Derek growls from now into eternity. But right now Derek's hands are around his arms and he's pushing off of him, the last thing Stiles wants him to do, if he's perfectly honest. Derek doesn't wait for him to answer and is already checking him over, looking for any signs that Stiles is in pain. And if it weren't for the look of abject worry on Derek's face, Stiles might have found it endearing, or made a joke about how they could have been having reality altering sex for months now. Instead, he grabs Derek's hands as the man inspects the bruising around his hips.

"Dude, relax. I'm fine- better than fine," he says, letting himself sink further into the pillow as he uses his legs to pull Derek back closer to him. But for whatever reason, Derek seems unconvinced, almost like he's already regretting punching Stiles' v-card with the force of a fucking runaway train.

"Sorry," the man says with an uncharacteristic softness. He then moves as if he intends to leave the bed and Stiles is in no way down with that.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Stiles sits up quickly, and immediately regrets it when the dull throb in his backside turns sharp for a moment. He sucks in a breath and can't help but wince. The pain is gone almost as fast as it came, but Derek is already gently pushing him back onto the mattress. Stiles takes the opportunity to wrap his legs around him tighter, refusing to let him try to leave again.

"I'm sorry-"

"Oh my god, shut up," Stiles says in frustration. "Just get back on top of me and act like what just happened didn't happen."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Derek says, because he's a fucking guilt factory, what did Stiles expect?

"You didn't, dumbass. At least not in a way that I didn't really, _really_ like. Now cut it out and get back to the post-coital cuddling. I was actually really into that."

When Derek doesn't move to comply, when he just sits there on his knees above Stiles and looks so fucking _disappointed_ in himself, that's when Stiles finally has had enough of the man's internal pity party. He grabs Derek by the neck and pulls him down for wettest, filthiest kiss he can manage. He licks into Derek's mouth and teases his tongue until Derek finally gets with the program and begins working his mouth against Stiles'. While he's distracted, Stiles grips his shoulders and bucks up, twisting and pulling at just that right moment that he manages to flip them over. The kiss breaks, and Derek looks up at him in confusion as Stiles repositions himself into a comfortable straddle.

"You know," Stiles starts as he reaches over to the other side of the bed to retrieve the abandoned bottle of lube. "I get the feeling you need a crash course in just laying back and _enjoying_ something-"

"Stiles-"

"Be quiet," Stiles tells him.

And to his endless fascination, Derek _listens_. The man's mouth actually snaps shut as he looks up at him, his hands coming to rest on Stiles' upper thighs in what could perhaps be called anticipation. Stiles raises an eyebrow, already reevaluating his plan.

"Hands off," he says. Derek blinks and, with an obvious amount of reluctance, removes his hands and grips the sheets by his legs instead. "Good boy." Stiles half expected Derek to growl at him in irritation, but instead the man turns a bright red as his Adam's apple bobs in a dry swallow.

Oh, Stiles thinks to himself. Oh wow.

There's a brief second when the moment goes to his head a little, when the thought that he could probably order Derek to do anything at this point is a terrifyingly tempting one. Stiles moves a hand back and slips a finger into himself, feeling the mess of come and lube still there, and he watches Derek eyes follow with hungry blue glow. Stiles wonders if he could get Derek to use his tongue, to work his ass open and clean him up with just his mouth. This isn't about him, though, so while the thought has him half-hard, he instead presses his fingers further inside with a fresh amount of lubricant. He's still fairly loose, and it's easy to slide in and stretch himself out. He rocks with his fingers, each motion grinding his pelvis into Derek's. The man has a white-knuckled grip on the sheets, and a sheen of sweat coats his body as he fights to keep from rocking up into Stiles' movements.

"You're being so good for me," Stiles purrs in a way he never thought himself capable. He doesn't know where this is all coming from, but he's determined to make the most of it. Derek definitely seems to like it, because he can't help but squirm a bit underneath him, something that could be mistaken for a whine catching in the back if his throat. He hisses out when Stiles wraps a hand around his cock, slowly spreading the lube. Stiles hears the sound of Derek's claws tearing through the fabric of the sheets when he dips a finger into the slit. Derek's breathing is deep but erratic as Stiles jerks him, his face drawn up in what looks like pain. Stiles doesn't blame him, Derek's fully hard and doing everything in his power to follow the simple orders given to him when every instinct is probably telling him to take control. Stiles removes his fingers from himself and brings them up to scratch lightly at Derek's chest, dragging them down slowly, smearing the mixture of lube and semen, until his nails run over Derek's nipple. It causes the man to buck and cry out, hands relinquishing the sheets and coming up to Stiles' hips.

But he stops.

For several stuttered breaths, Derek lets his hands hang in mid-air before he clenches them into fists and lowers them back to the bed. Stiles stares down at him in open fascination as a fond smile stretches his lips. He hands stop their torture and he leans down to kiss Derek's neck.

"Please..." Derek says in a choked, hushed breath. Stiles sucks a bit harder at his neck, loving how he can feel the rumble of Derek's moan. When he pulls back, he watches the hickey stand out on his skin before slowly vanishing. He straightens up, eyes meeting Derek's as he runs his hands down his muscled chest.

"Remember, no touching."

He grasps Derek's cock, sitting up on his knees as he guides the man inside. It's hard to keep his eyes open as he sinks down; the new position feels so different, equally pleasurable, though he's unprepared for the feeling of it. But he has to see it. He has to watch as Derek's expression of pain turns to relief and then something close to blissed out. The man's eyes are closed as his head tilts back, mouth open silent moan.

Stiles knows they can do better than silent.

At first, he simply picks himself up and lowers back down onto Derek's cock a few times, slowly getting used to how he can and can't move in this position. And it's good. Having control over the pace allows him to find the perfect angle for himself, let's him just take in the feeling of Derek splitting him open. But good is not great, so, very slowly, Stiles begins to change his movements. He rocks his hips forward on the next upstroke, gyrating back when he goes down. A punched-out sound escapes Derek's mouth as he bucks up against his will again. The next time he does it, the moans are coming from him when he rocks just right as Derek cock drags across his prostate. He picks up his pace, letting his hips undulate further back and forth.

Stiles has to brace himself back against Derek's knees when the man can no longer hold back from thrusting upwards. Choked off moans force their way out of his mouth as jolts of pleasure make his toes to curls and causes him to lose the rhythm once or twice. Sweat runs down his back as he sits down fully onto Derek's dick, needing a moment to reign himself in. He buries a hand in his own damp hair, trying to keep from coming. They're not done yet, not by a long shot. His eyes are shut tightly as he tries to control his ragged breathing, so he jumps slightly when Derek finally brings a hand up to his hip.

Stiles opens his eyes and looks down at the man underneath. Derek is staring up at him, his gaze filled with a warmth Stiles doesn't have the brain cells to decipher just then. Whatever domineering game Stiles had started is broken, because he just can't keep hold of it right now. So instead of forcing Derek's hand down, Stiles links their fingers and lets the man keep his hand there. The pace they return to is chaotic. Stiles hips have a mind of their own now, gyrating as Derek braces his feet against the bed and thrusts up into his ass. The sounds are an obscene combination of wet, slapping skin, the creaking of the bed frame, and pleasure filled shouts and moans.

Stiles comes so hard he forgets to breathe. He bottoms out and then stays, ass clenching around the cock buried inside of him as he shoots across Derek's stomach in white streaks. Derek's hands grip his hips tightly as he thrusts up a couple more times before opening his mouth in a fanged growl and coming inside.

Stiles feels Derek gingerly hold him up as he slides out of his ass. Even as Stiles sways and his legs shake from exertion, he can feel Derek's semen dribbling out of his hole and down his thigh. It's hotter than it should be. He tries valiantly to hold himself upright, but Derek catches him as he slumps over, turning them so that Stiles head rests against the pillow.

"Holy shit," he breathes out, the ceiling swirling above him. This is what he's been missing out on. He has nothing but porn for comparison, but he's pretty sure two rounds of what they just did is gold medal worthy. No other contestants need apply, everyone else go home. He's ruined.

Derek is on top of him again, nose back to being buried behind his ear. They're gross. They were gross before, but now they are both in definite need of a shower. Like hell he's getting out of bed though. He's not even sure he could get his legs to move, let alone hold him up. Plus, breaking the quiet now might lead to talking about what the fuck just happened, and he's not sure he's fully cognizant yet. However, just as he's about to doze off, he hears something next to his ear and Derek's shoulders start to shake minutely. Stiles heart rate had begun to slow, but it immediately picks up again in a panic.

"Dude. Derek? Are you crying?"

Oh shit _oh shit_ , he broke his fucking werewolf. He just had to go and push the guy when all they really should have done was take a step back and-

And then Derek snorts unattractively into Stiles' shoulder. Craning his head into a semi-painful angle, Stiles tries to get a look at Derek's face. He can see the edge of the man's lips pulled up into a smile.

"You son of a bitch, are you laughing?" Stiles asks incredulously, ignoring his own hypocrisy. Derek just buries his face further into Stiles' neck and breathes in deeply.

"It's fun with you," he says and Stiles doesn't know what to do with that. There are all sorts of implications into Derek's sexual history that come from just four innocuous words that he doesn't think either of them really want to examine right now. Or ever. Never's good. Instead, he just wraps his limbs around Derek like a lanky octopus and snorts in his own unattractive way.

"Dude, I'm a barrel of fucking laughs, you're just now realizing that?"

"You're a barrel of something alright."

"Your face is a barrel. AHA! No, not the sides. You dick!"

He thinks they'll be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I read a lot of smut. Like A LOT a lot. Like I-should-probably-be-in-porn-rehab-sending-letters-to-my-poor-grandmother-asking-for-forgiveness a lot. 
> 
> You'd think my first attempt at writing it myself would be better than this. Whatever. Gifsets of Dylan doing indecent things with his lower body were all over my dash, and something had to be done about it.
> 
> (Hey, did you know you can find me on tumblr at jettiebettie.tumblr.com or on twitter by the same handle? It's true.)


End file.
